


what are kings but perfect shadows?

by bondofoblivion



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crossover, Description of Injuries, Final Fantasy XV - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, If You Squint - Freeform, Mentioned Ardyn Izunia, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, References to Injections, Roxas/Sora - Freeform, can be read as romantic or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 07:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18205217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondofoblivion/pseuds/bondofoblivion
Summary: It was not a sacrifice to devote one's life to a king.It was an honor.Roxas should know. Even long before he knew exactly what Sora meant all worlds, he had chosen to do the same.And kings had so often proved to be the culmination of things they left behind them.





	what are kings but perfect shadows?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! First off, the beginning and end quotes referenced in this fic are from "Edward II" by Christopher (Kit) Marlowe! (Shakespeare who?) Anyway, I'm not entirely sure what happened here, but it started as a hurt/comfort fic and ended as this. I don't think any prior knowledge to Final Fantasy XV is really necessary, but it might help with some contextual elements that might go over one's head otherwise.
> 
> As mentioned, I think you can read this as romantic or platonic! It really depends on your take and how you want to interpret the emotions and connections between the characters!
> 
> Feel free to @ me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/bondofoblivion) about all things Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy and be sure to let me know what you think in the comments.

**_“But what are kings, when regiment is gone,_ **

**_But perfect shadows in a sunshine day?”_ **

         Sora hesitated. When it came to condemnation, Sora hesitated. Only when his hand was forced was Sora known to fall men and monsters alike, brandishing light in such a fashion that he often breathed new life into the remnants of corrupted hearts. He beckoned phoenixes to rise from the ashes left in his wake, and behind them they rose. One by one, Sora amassed allies from antagonists, friend from foe.

         Roxas, on the other hand, was impulsive. When it came to condemnation, he was rash. From the moment Ardyn first appeared to their party, Roxas knew the man would prove to be unspeakably cruel. And he wasn’t wrong. Ardyn’s depravity was evidence by how he had singlehandedly separated Sora and Prompto from their party. 

         The loss of such pure sources of light had shaken the group to their core. Noctis Lucis Caelum, the King of Light, mourned his own thoughtlessness — his inability to see beyond the illusion Ardyn had manifested in Prompto’s stead — how simple it was for the chancellor to coax hateful barbs from this throat and violence from his hands.

         Noctis carried the loss of his kingdom, his father, the oracle and now this, abandoning his first real friend to an unknown fate. And Roxas — well Roxas had simply watched when Sora flashed a trademark smile in his direction before tumbling after.

         How much time had passed since Sora and Prompto disappeared? How long had it been since Noctis forced his best friend off a train? How many moments had passed since Sora jumped off after him?

         Roxas was counting, but they were moving forward.

         And as Noctis told himself he would find Prompto, Roxas swore he would find Sora.

         It was only a matter of time.

         Just as it was a matter of time until Noctis would defeat Ardyn and Eos would be returned to the realm of light. With his friends and two keyblade wielders at his side, Noctis would put an end to the influence of Ardyn’s darkness.

         Roxas could see the resolve in Noctis’s eyes now. The reluctance hardened into resolution and with each passing day, the line of his mouth growing just as callous as The Crystal from which his power stemmed. The King of Lucis no longer smiled — he marched forward. 

         Part of Roxas wondered if Noctis was becoming resigned to his fate. 

         Another part sympathized — for the light seemed ever so insistent on begging the sacrifices of innocents in some arbitrary trade for the greater good.

         Initially, Roxas had come to understand that those sacrifices were passed on, phased beyond the chosen until there were no more pawns to surrender, no more knights to fall. The innocents across Eos, the Kingsglaive in Insomnia, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, and even Regis Lucis Caelum himself had freely given themselves to the mercilessness hands of fate — Gods, Daemons, Darkness and Light alike — for a future that Noctis was supposed to guarantee for those who survived. 

         It reminded him of Sora.

         And as Roxas looked upon Gladiolus and Ignis, he understood.As he remembered speaking with Prompto, he understood. It was not a sacrifice to devote their lives to a King. 

        It was an honor.

         Roxas should know. Even long before he knew exactly what Sora meant all worlds, he had chosen to do the same.

        And kings had so often proved to be the culmination of things they left behind them.

**_“May your heart be your guiding key —.”_**

         Roxas remembered being told these words, when he first began his journey to find Sora after the brunet’s sacrifice to resurrect Kairi. And now, he found himself repeating this mantra under his breath until Ignis prompted him, with all the grace befitting of a King’s Advisor, to share his musings with Noctis.

         It lit a fire in the King of Lucis.

         The beckoning call of The Crystal, the taunts of Ardyn Izunia, and Noctis’s destiny all led them here — Gralea: Zegnatus Keep. But, the heart of Noctis, strong in its cadence and light would not yet surrender him to his destiny. Not when Prompto Argentum was on the line.

         Just as as the King of Light’s heart would lead him to Prompto Argentum, Roxas’s knew his own would guide him to Sora.

         Lines of cells stood before Noctis and Roxas. A grotesque mix of blood and sterilization could not disguise the stench of death and decay that hung heavy in the air. And one by one, they began their search. Bodies, some corpses, and other corrupted beyond recognition lined the cells. Gladiolus and Ignis waved them off when they discovered survivors — and Roxas was grateful Noctis’s retainers weren’t allowing them to linger.

         After all, Noctis and Roxas had already considered the worst case scenario, that their search would end in corpses not men.

         They moved forward. 

         Every step they took echoed throughout the hall. Every moment lasted an eternity. Then, Noctis broke into a sprint. “Prompto!” He shouted. His retainers and Roxas came running after. 

         And while Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus rushed towards their companion, Roxas felt a phantom pain his chest, an invisible tether compelling him to turn left. He resisted the compulsion at first, racing forward toward Prompto and taking in the scene before him.

         Prompto was a mess when they found him. Strung up on a device that resembled a crucifix and mumbling, the blond kept whispering to Noctis, pleading with his eyes where his words failed for the validation the King of Light would undoubtedly offer him.

         As Roxas bore witness to the reunion before him, he felt another stab of pain in his chest. His vision began to blur and suddenly, he found he could ignore his earlier compulsion no longer. He tore his eyes from the scene and ran, feet taking him the scarce meters down the hall, only halting at an intersection. Narrow corridors led both left and right. Another tug of some string he couldn’t see had him moving left, Oathkeeper and Oblivion manifesting of their own accord, striking down the cell door at the end of the hall.

         A fundamental truth was clear as soon as blue eyes took in the scene before him, his keyblades vanishing as quickly as they had been summoned.

         If it was evident that Prompto had been roughed up, then it was obvious that Sora…

Well — Sora had born the brunt of the torment.

Strung up just as Prompto had been, Sora managed a pained smile when he saw Roxas.

His teeth were stained red, the whites of his eyes were littered with crimson lines, and shades of purple and green painted his skin. Roxas didn’t even allow himself to consider the implications of the traces of greedy fingerprints pressed into the line of Sora’s neck, not when a single thought was overtaking his entire being.

         _He’s alive…_

         _He’s alive…_

**‘ _Welcome home.’_**

         Lungs seized in his chest, but his body move of its own accord. Roxas was powerless to thrall of the heart beating erratically beneath his ribs, the blood pulsing in his veins, and the electricity reverberating through his form, commanding him forward. He felt eerily still, as if he were watching himself go through the motions of approaching Sora rather than being present for them. Roxas watched helplessly as his hands released Sora from his confines, and he was only brought back to himself by the weight of Sora pressed against him as he supported the chosen wielder — preventing the merciless crash of his body against the ground beneath them.

         Roxas’s eyes stung when Sora looked up at him. 

         “You’re — crying —,” Sora rasped even trying to push himself to his feet, wincing with every movement. Roxas held him steady, encouraging Sora to lean on him with gentle hands. Sora relented to Roxas’s featherlight touches, pushing and pulling his weight against Roxas’s form as he cradled his side. 

         Only once Sora was leaning heavily against Roxas did it register what the brunet had said. Roxas’s vision blurred and his eyes burned. It was tears. How had he not realized it was tears?

         _He’s alive —._

         _He’s alive —._

**_‘Me — worried?’_ **

         “— Roxas,” Sora said. His voice broke through Roxas’s thoughts, even as the brunet’s fingers wound themselves into the fabric of the Roxas’s vestments, currently in the form of a Crownsguard uniform. Sora’s grasp tethered Roxas to the present, but it was the urgency of his tone that kept him here. “Prompto — is he?” 

         Roxas knew Sora was still trying to hold himself up. Sora was still forcing himself to walk tall — regardless of all his injuries. The drive that pushed Sora onward was always a marvel, from the hearts he reclaimed from death itself, to way he was ready to force his broken body forward if Prompto was still in danger. The chosen wielder wasn’t going to stop. Black fatigues ripped, person disheveled and dirty, all ahorrifying reminder that even their magic wasn’t enough on this world, but Sora still wouldn’t stop.

         He was the most amazing creature Roxas would ever lay eyes on.

         It was an honor to be this man’s shadow.

         “He’s okay —,” Roxas replied quietly, taking on even more of Sora’s weight with the one arm he was using to support Sora’s uninjured side, his other hand brushing lightly through the hair at the nape of Sora’s neck. “He’s good,” Roxas reassured Sora. “He’s alright. He’s with Noct.”

         “Good,” Sora said, seeming to relax a little more, his forehead falling in the crook of Roxas’s neck, even as a heavy sigh escaped him. “Roxas… he was — he was screaming.”

         Roxas swallowed hard. What Sora wasn’t saying roared to life in his mind. Sora was hurt, and not just physically. Sora had felt both powerless and devastated, to know his friend was in pain and that he had been incapable of stopping it. Sora was enraged to know that some man would dare inflict harm against an innocent to bait their true target, that someone could justify causing so much pain for some arbitrary goal. And now, Sora was processing — and Roxas was certain that his heart was so full of light that it would bask all the negative emotions he felt in shadow.

**_‘A real leader knows that destiny is beyond his control… and accepts that.’_ **

         This was not his world, this was not his fight. Sora would understand soon enough that he had done all he could have, because leaving Prompto alone would have been worse.

         The only real response Roxas could conjure was to curse. “Shit.”

         “I didn’t — I couldn’t — save him,” Sora said, voice just as urgent but quiet. Roxas knew this confession was for him alone to hear, so he listened.He would always listen to Sora. “But I noticed,” Sora added, then paused. His tone turned sardonic as he explained, “I guess I’m getting smarter after all.” While Sora’s inflection was unsettling, Roxas recognized the resignation in his voice, having experienced it himself so many times before. The blond waited, still holding Sora. Even as the other man started to shake from exertion, Roxas didn’t dare cut him off. “The screaming —.” Sora whispered, “He spent less time with Prompto, if I didn’t.”

         “Sora… what did he do to you?”

         “Nothing I couldn’t handle —,” The brunet replied too quickly, the break in his voice manifesting in a rough cough. He clutched at Roxas with enough force to bruise, burying his head even farther into Roxas’s neck as he whined, low and long. Roxas didn’t need to see Sora’s face to know he was trying to force a smile, the curve of his his mouth pressed against where Roxas’s shoulder met his neck. “I think —,” Sora admitted, “I think I might have some broken ribs.” His voiced sounded sounded raspy again, and Roxas could only hope that the brunet wasn’t bleeding out in his arms. “It kinda hurts to breathe, too.”

         Roxas wasn’t given a moment to respond, not when Gladiolus’s voice boomed from the doorway behind him. “Roxas, how’s he holding up?” Gladio asked, and Roxas forced into submission the instinctual part of him that wanted to spit biting words at the hulking man. Roxas’s back was to the door, and while he didn’t think Sora would have spoken so honestly with an audience, it was impossible to tell how long Gladiolus had been there. Furthermore, Roxas had the infuriating knowledge that Sora would wrench himself from his grasp to put on a good face for the others if it came to that. 

         But, instead of growling a threat at the older man, Roxas refrained and answered his question with the one simple thought that had consumed him since setting eyes on Sora again. 

         _He’s alive._

         _He’s flesh and blood and in his arms._

         _Roxas couldn’t not hold Sora, not when he was truly there in front of him for the first time._

**_‘This is real.’_ **

         “He’s alive,” Roxas replied, turning his head to the wall more than to Gladio, as not to jar Sora.

         “Prompto —?” Sora asked, raising his head from Roxas’s neck, undoubtedly looking towards the King’s Shield for confirmation that Prompto was stable, that his prognosis remained the same between the time Roxas saw him until now.

         “He’s asking for you, too, kid,” Gladiolus confirmed. “Prompto was worried,” The shield crossed his arms, and arched a brow. “Kept saying something about never hearing you —,” The older man’s rough voice paused for a beat. Roxas’s hand stilled from where it was stroking Sora’s hair. After a long moment, Gladio cleared this throat. “He never heard you scream — he thought you might be…”

         Sora, in his infinite wisdom or foolishness, ignored the unspoken implication that had been haunting Roxas since the moment Sora jumped off the train. Roxas felt Sora’s body shake slightly, the movement controlled and deliberate, as if he were mimicking the action of a laugh, without the sound and just enough motion to show Gladio that he was in good spirits, even though Roxas knew it was taking everything in Sora to not devolve into a coughing fit. “Tell him ‘ _I told you so_ ,’ okay?” Sora offered. “He didn’t think Noctis would look for him because of what he said.” He felt Sora’s chin brush against his shoulder, a nod. “— But I knew Noct would. Just like — I knew Roxas would.” He concluded, leaning back on his knees, not completely abandoning Roxas’s support but far enough so that he could look Roxas in the eyes. Even if Sora’s second wind was all false confidence, he knew that the brunet’s words rang true.

         It was an oath they made to one another when they first started going on missions together.

         “No more disappearing,” Roxas promised quietly, even as he forced back the tears that once again threatened to spill from his eyes. He couldn’t cry again, not when Sora was trying to smile, the gentle curve at the corner of his mouth breaking Roxas’s heart as it bloomed to life.

         “Yeah —,” Sora replied, “No more disappearing.”

         Gladio cleared his throat and cocked his head to the side. “There are a few safe rooms nearby,” He explained. “We’ve got ourselves set up in one, but there’s another just down the hall. When Prom said he didn’t hear Sora, Iggy thought it might be best.”

         “You were gonna give me time,” Roxas said, still looking at Sora who was smiling at him through the pain.

         “Space —,” A voice Roxas immediately identified as belong to Ignis interjected. “I anticipated that Sora might have sustained some injuries.” Roxas heard the curious tap of what must have been Ignis’s support cane against the bars of the cell that remained near the entryway. “Roxas, Gladio has a few curatives to mend Sora’s most troublesome injuries once you get settled. — While there is very little we can offer you in recompense, you must know you were an invaluable asset in locating both Prompto and Sora.” Ignis paused and from the look on Sora’s face, a small smile must be gracing the advisor’s lips, because the brunet was positively beaming. “While Noctis might not in so many words extend his gratitude, I am here to thank you on his behalf.”

         “Wow, you really got your land legs, Iggy!” Sora said excitedly.

         Roxas shook his head and said, “Thanks, Specs. — Now, up and at ‘em Sora,” He commanded, moving to stand and make the inevitable march towards their quarters for the night. “We gotta patch you up.”

* * *

         Roxas helped Sora towards the nearest bed. The brunet was hunched over, breath shallow and cradling his side as he sat on the edge of the mattress. “Okay,” Roxas said, “Sora, look at me.” Roxas noticed Sora’s eyes were glassy as the other man turned toward him. Blue eyes narrowed as they focused on Roxas, the furrow of Sora’s brow proof enough that he was having trouble concentrating. “I have to assess the damage.” Sora nodded, or more accurately, his head bobbed. As Sora moved his arms to pull his shirt over his head, he stopped a quarter of the way through the motion, a sharp wince escaping him. Roxas’s hands moved before he registered the action, preventing Sora from going further. “Let me,” Roxas said, manipulating Sora to the best of his abilities to get him out of his shirt with minimal discomfort. “Okay,” Roxas confirmed, mostly to himself as he helped Sora lay back on the bed.

         Sora’s left side was a mess of purple and green, the two colors swirling together, fading in and out of each other as they painted lightly bronzed skin. Pools of ink bled beneath the surface of Sora’s flesh, the ridges of his lower ribs out of line, dipping in and out of the concealed viscosity of his wounds. Roxas cursed under his breath.

         “That bad —?” Sora asked, arms pillowing his head as he stared at the railing of the bunk overhead. “Huh?”

         “Sora.” Roxas sighed. “How are you still standing?”

         “I’m not standing—,” Sora replied slowly, eyes glancing down to Roxas. Small tremors ran down his form, the rise and fall of his chest growing more unsteady with each passing second. The pallor of Sora’s complexion was even lighter than it had been before. “Not — right now.” 

         Roxas’s wasn’t foolish enough to blame the fluorescents overhead for how pale Sora was. He knew he was running out of time. “I need to see where the most damage is,” Roxas explained, a tinge of urgency in his tone. “We’re trying to preserve what curatives we can — we don’t know what’s next.”

         “Okay,” Sora agreed, screwing his eyes shut before Roxas’s fingertips even brushed the tender flesh of his side. Roxas trailed the curve of each rib, descending lower with each pass. Sora’s mouth remained closed, as did his eyes. Only when Roxas traced the visible deformities, did Sora’s entire body tense as tears leaked from the edges of the brunet’s lids.

         “Shh, it’s okay…” Roxas said, immediately removing his hand from Sora’s side and retrieving one of the potions Ignis supplied him. He crushed the vial within his palm, watching the contents disperse over Sora’s skin, mending his wounds right before his eyes. The bruises faded, his bones settled into their rightful places, and though the potion did very little for the superficial injuries covering the rest of Sora’s body, the deep breath the chosen wielder inhaled after the potion took effect was well worth it. “That’s it, I’m done,” Roxas stated, trying to avoid letting his gaze linger on the abrasions on Sora’s face or the injection sites on his arms that appeared far too fresh for comfort.

         “Roxas —,” Sora said as he moved to prop himself up on his elbows, a small groan of discomfort escaping him.

         Roxas immediately moved closer to Sora, urging him to rest. “C’mon, Sora —. ”

         Sora shook his head, rejecting Roxas’s suggestion. “No, I have to tell you — about the injections…” He trailed off.

         “You know —?!” Roxas asked, briefly taken aback. Then, an edge of concern overtook his tone. “You know what they put in you?”

         “I think,” Sora said, turning away. His eyes were focused now, less hazy, even as they refused to meet Roxas’s own. “I think it was daemon blood, or some form of the Starscourge —.” He kept his gaze cast aside, a half-hearted laugh escaping him. “I never felt anything like that, like I was burning alive.” Roxas didn’t flinch at the description, if anything he reached out and laid a hand on Sora’s own. Only then, did Sora look at him.

         “I guess,” Roxas replied, “you just had too much light for anything to get through.”

         “You don’t — you don’t know that.” Sora said, seemingly uncertain as he turned his hand beneath Roxas’s to lace their fingers together.He was searching for comfort and though it felt wrong to hear Sora wavering, Roxas squeezed the hand intertwined with his own. He wouldn’t deny Sora this, even if for all the time Roxas knew the brunet, conviction had be written into the very fiber of his being.

         But that didn’t mean Sora, like Roxas himself, didn’t need reassurance, too.

         “Yeah, I do,” Roxas said, a small smile pulling at his lips.

         “You’re starting to sound like me,” Sora replied, mirroring Roxas’s grin.

         “Who says that’s a bad thing?” Roxas asked, reaching up to place his other hand on Sora’s face, thumbing lightly at the cut on his cheek bone.

         “There’s one more thing you need to know,” Sora added, slowly pushing himself up so that he could sit level with Roxas. The blond’s hand immediately shifted to support Sora’s neck as he moved to sit upright, releasing Sora’s hand as he adjusted. “Ardyn,” Sora said, “he — he knew that we were from another world.” The brunet looked down at his hands, which now rested in his lap. “He said, after he was through with me — the person I trusted most would hate me.”

         Roxas swallowed hard, but he was quick to reassure Sora. “Sora, Riku could never —.”

         Sora interrupted him. “No — Roxas.” He paused. “It’s you —.”

         His eyes widened at Sora’s statement. Embarrassingly, the only words Roxas could seem to summon were ones laced with confusion. “Wait, what?”

         “Roxas,” Sora shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. “After all we’ve been through, how could it be anyone else but you?”

         “Sora, I —,” Roxas said, before he trailed off, speechless.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it back,” Sora offered. “I just — wanted you to know.”

         “Sora,” Roxas replied, “even when I thought hated you, I —.”

         “Gave up your life for me?” Sora interjected, an amused huff escaping him. Roxas, even found himself stifling a laugh because in some ways, it was like an old joke between the two of them. That day in Twilight Town felt like a lifetime ago. Now, it seemed so small, especially when they were both here, when they were both alive.

         “Yeah,” Roxas confirmed, “and I _trusted you_ with it.” Roxas brought his other hand up, placing it over his heart, a fond smile pulling at his lips as his said in many words what Sora had confessed in a few. “Whatever you were gonna do, I had to believe it was worth it. — And it was.”

         Then, Sora was pulling Roxas toward him, wrapping his arms around his waist and it was instinctual, how Roxas returned the embrace. They were reluctant to part, so much so that Roxas was content to close his eyes and simply listen to Sora breathe. 

         When Sora eventually pulled back, Roxas opened his eyes to see Sora’s trademark grin. Roughed up and weak, having been subjected to torture and the essence of darkness itself, Sora’s smile was still enough to light the darkest of places.

         And that thought was enough to prompt him to offer Sora what the other man had given him, when his heart was there but his body had nothing left. “You know that — even if something happened to your body, because of what Ardyn did…” Roxas said, “You could just hitch a ride in my heart until Even could make you a new one.”

         Sora’s eyes widened a little, but then he laughed. His whole body shook in a way that it hadn’t earlier. The sound was lighter and real, in a way that had Roxas had smiling too. “I thought you said no more disappearing,” The brunet teased.

         Roxas turned away briefly, forcing down the flush that threatened to overtake his features. It was too easy to smile and laugh with Sora, at how frustratingly endearing he could be when Roxas was practically bearing his heart to him. It was impossible not to humor him, though, so Roxas found himself easily replying, “It’s not disappearing if I know where you are.”

         “You know, you’re right —,” Sora said, smile growing less expressive but no less genuine as he looked at Roxas. The blond knew his grin was the same, small and devastatingly fond.

         Roxas didn’t know how long the two remained like this, but eventually Sora yawned, breaking them out of their reprieve.

         “Roxas,” He said, “I think I’m really tired…”

         “Yeah, shit,” Roxas replied, “After all you’ve been through, I can’t imagine. — I’m sorry.” The blond apologized, getting up to move, but not before Sora could seize his wrist. Roxas looked at him and arched a brow in a silent question.

         “Wait, please,” Sora said, pulling lightly on Roxas’s wrist. “Please, stay here.”

         Roxas’s knew there were plenty of reasons to refuse, seeing as there were a number of other places to sleep in the room they found themselves in, one being directly above were they currently sat. Instead, though, he looked at Sora, who hadn’t released his hold on Roxas’s wrist and saw the same look in the brunet’s eyes that he had seen in Prompto’s earlier. Sora needed Roxas, so there was no other answer he wanted to give than to agree. “Okay,” He said.

         After all, there was nothing he could refuse Sora, nothing he wanted to.

         The bunk was small and Sora ended up half sprawled over Roxas, who laid on his back, one arm wrapped around Sora, holding the man almost flush to his side. Sora buried his face in the crook of Roxa’s neck and it seemed like he subconsciously laid his hand directly over Roxas’s heart. 

         Just as Sora’s breath began to even out, Roxas asked, “Sora, why did you go after Prompto?” 

         His question went unanswered for a moment but then Sora shifted ever so slightly. He didn’t wrench himself from Roxas’s side or press himself closer, but simply moved.With the ease and familiarity someone who hadn’t been subjected to torture at the hands of man for endless hours — Sora just moved. In fact, Roxas wasn’t sure if the other man was awake, not until he spoke.

         “Because if I didn’t,” Sora said. He yawned, his jaw pressing into the dip of Roxas’s collar bone. His voice was low, quiet as he continued, “I knew you would…” He paused, tone tinged with the edge of lethargy as he confessed, “— And I needed to know that… you were safe…”

Roxas’s breath hitched, because only then did it strike him that if Sora was his sovereign, that perhaps he could be Sora’s king, too.

‘ ** _That’s why it has to be you.’_**

        Roxas turned his head, gently pressed his face into Sora’s hair, and breathed deep — as if he could hold the very essence of Sora in his lungs and keep him there, protected beneath the armor of his ribs — a loyal knight to a would-be king. Roxas thought of mobs, monarchs, and deities as he laid with Sora, who rested against Roxas as if he was strong enough to keep it all at bay. Roxas had never really known Sora to find peace in his shadow, but he swore to do his best to stay the hands of what might haunt the mind and heart of his light.

         It was the same light Roxas saw when he gave himself over to Sora, and the same still of the boy in red he saw when he first opened his eyes. Sora was the beginning and end for Roxas, he always was and always would be. From the moment he pulled Sora into the liminal space of his heart, only solidified by the brunet telling him he deserved to be real, Roxas knew Sora was it.

         And when Sora disappeared, after fighting alongside him and giving Roxas everything he promised him he should have, Roxas swore to get him back. And he did.

         And while Sora’s crown would always weigh him down, Roxas would be there to lift him up. If it tried to drown him in an ocean of nothing, baring his heart for his own eyes to see, Roxas would share the burden himself. If there was a throne tarnished, together, he and Sora would clean it. And if the pile of bodies at their feet grew insurmountable, Roxas and Sora would destroy their crown and use it shards to raise up those who had fallen around them.

         That was just who they were and who they would always be.

And truth be told, Roxas couldn’t remember when he realized it, but he knew as he laid next to Sora on a world so far away from Destiny Islands and Twilight Town, that he had loved Sora innately from the beginning.

         And he knew he would love him to the end and back again.

         So, Roxas, with Sora asleep next to him, closed his eyes and realized that today, he had learned that Sora loved him, too.

**_“The mightiest kings have had their minions; Great Alexander loved Hephaestion, The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept; And for Patroclus, stern Achilles drooped. And not kings only, but the wisest men: The Roman Tully loved Octavius, Grave Socrates, wild Alcibiades.”_**  


End file.
